Re: The Golden Quill - Curio Items and Promotions
Posted: Sat Apr 15, 2017 4:40 pm
There were few things that Tristan Thalavar would tolerate to do that did not fit his satisfaction. To him, this was intelligence. Why should one lift a finger, let alone stir their whole body for motion only to groan with the reluctance of it? Such things were fit for the Ilmateri, not for him.
Yet here he sat with only a mirror and morbidity for companions. Thelnam had little else in the way of company to offer him. Today that was his preference. A finger stroked back and forth repetitively upon that slice of sundered skin; that imperfect truth that sullied something more significant, more real than the truth that it told. He despised that lesser truth; he despised what that lesser truth made him so deeply that he despised himself.
Going forward, therefore, it does one well to heed these two aspects of Tristan's character as co-existent. A bow sat neglected at the end of the creaky room to which he had been resigned for his stay. This was not a bow of a similar style to Aleira Nemesk's, of course. Since his return he had no mood for it, anyway. For a moment he turned all the foulness of his mood towards despising Wynna Blackwing. It would pass, but when outlets so wilfully made themselves available, why would he not turn his wrath upon something other than himself? It was she, after all, who had forced his hand. There were things that he simply would not do, and a select few others which he must begrudge himself to do for the sake of a more artful scheme than hours spent in self-indulgent self-loathing.
Margaux had remained in the city. It was rare that she didn't. Liberty was a ticket she cashed in upon the rooftops; a coin with which she flirted among the finery. Her reluctance to quit it for anywhere as maudlin as Thelnam could only be reasoned with by a mutual interest in forwarding the so-called young prince's ambitions. And as she had perched herself one fateful afternoon upon the roof of 5 Shield Lane, there to spy the pertinent comings and goings of Wynna Blackwing, the latest member of her employ, and Lori Peveril, she had leveraged an opportunity for her master.
To the Valkurian Shrine Tristan first would go, there to see the fullness of his character restored - even if it could only for now be a temporary amendment - so that he might make an expedient departure for the city. Having wrestled with his unwillingness to go hence so soon, Tristan resolved that the journey would not be without results.
Yet here he sat with only a mirror and morbidity for companions. Thelnam had little else in the way of company to offer him. Today that was his preference. A finger stroked back and forth repetitively upon that slice of sundered skin; that imperfect truth that sullied something more significant, more real than the truth that it told. He despised that lesser truth; he despised what that lesser truth made him so deeply that he despised himself.
Going forward, therefore, it does one well to heed these two aspects of Tristan's character as co-existent. A bow sat neglected at the end of the creaky room to which he had been resigned for his stay. This was not a bow of a similar style to Aleira Nemesk's, of course. Since his return he had no mood for it, anyway. For a moment he turned all the foulness of his mood towards despising Wynna Blackwing. It would pass, but when outlets so wilfully made themselves available, why would he not turn his wrath upon something other than himself? It was she, after all, who had forced his hand. There were things that he simply would not do, and a select few others which he must begrudge himself to do for the sake of a more artful scheme than hours spent in self-indulgent self-loathing.
Margaux had remained in the city. It was rare that she didn't. Liberty was a ticket she cashed in upon the rooftops; a coin with which she flirted among the finery. Her reluctance to quit it for anywhere as maudlin as Thelnam could only be reasoned with by a mutual interest in forwarding the so-called young prince's ambitions. And as she had perched herself one fateful afternoon upon the roof of 5 Shield Lane, there to spy the pertinent comings and goings of Wynna Blackwing, the latest member of her employ, and Lori Peveril, she had leveraged an opportunity for her master.
To the Valkurian Shrine Tristan first would go, there to see the fullness of his character restored - even if it could only for now be a temporary amendment - so that he might make an expedient departure for the city. Having wrestled with his unwillingness to go hence so soon, Tristan resolved that the journey would not be without results.
